Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?
by Beautiful-Crying-Angel
Summary: Come on, bro, please." "Fine Joe, but you owe me big time." "I promise, you won't regret it." At least, that was what Joe wanted to believe. Please read and review. Chapter Two up!
1. Chapter 1

**Title: ****Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?**

**Author: ****Beautiful-Crying-Angel**

**Category: ****Books – Hardy Boys**

**Genre: ****Tragedy/Angst/Spiritual**

**Rating: ****Teen**

**Summary: ****It's Friday night, and Joe promised Fenton he would pick up a package for him. The only problem is that the post office closes in half an hour, and Joe also promised Vanessa he's take her to the late movie. Frank, in an act of kindness, decides he'll drive down and collect the parcel for him. Too bad things never work out the way we want them to. **

**Disclaimer: ****I do not own the Hardy Boys or anything pertaining to them.**

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**Chapter One**

Friday nights in June were always the best. They were the one time each week when people unwound, and surrendered all their worries to the pleasure of another weekend. As soon as the sun had set party-goers, and anyone looking to have fun, could be found out and about. The town was alive with music and laughter.

On one particular Friday night, however, eighteen-year-old Frank Hardy was not looking for a good time. Final exams were only a week away, and he wanted as much preparation as possible. He graduated this year, so this final month of school had to be time well spent.

Frank ran a hand through his dark brown hair, his matching coffee-colored eyes fixed on the Chemistry 12 textbook before him. How on earth was he going to remember all these formulas and reactions? He sighed heavily. "Maybe I need a break," he said.

As if in answer, there was a knock on his bedroom door. The year-younger Hardy brother entered without waiting for a reply. "Hey Frank, what are you doing?"

"What do you want, Joe?" Frank asked, pretending to be deep in concentration.

"Why do you always assume I want something?"

"Because you usually do." Joe flopped down on the end of the bed, and stared without much interest at the open schoolbook.

"What are you studying?"

"Stop beating around the bush, little brother. What do you want?" Frank looked up expectedly. It was exactly like Joe to leave everything for the last minute. Then it was always Frank's job to bail him out.

"Okay, here's the problem. Earlier today I promised Dad I'd pick up a parcel for him from the post office. I forgot about it, and the post officer closes at eleven." Frank glanced over at the clock - 10:30. "Vanessa's going to be here any minute. We're going to see the late movie."

"So? Just get Dad's package, or whatever, first thing in the morning."

"Ha-ha, funny thing is, he's stopping by the house tomorrow morning at seven to get it."

"And?"

"The post office isn't open until nine." Frank rolled his eyes. This is just what he had predicted. Now it was his turn to get Joe out of trouble, and make sure everything was alright. No one would ever be the wiser. "Come on, bro, please. I really need this date with Van. And you're not doing anything.

Frank sighed defeated. How did he constantly get cornered into these things? "Fine Joe, but you owe me _big _time."

"You got it. I promise you won't regret it." Ironic, isn't it, how nothing ever works out as planned?

_**OhBrotherWhereArtThou**_

"Mom, can I borrow your car?" Laura Hardy looked up from the paperwork she was spilled over. Papers, documents, and folders were scattered all over the kitchen table.

"Why, dear?" She didn't look up.

"Joe's taking the van, and I need to run an errand."

"An errand?" Laura looked up now, curious. "At ten-thirty at night?" Frank shrugged.

"I might get something to eat afterwards."

"Okay, dear. I'm turning in now. Don't be too late." Mrs. Hardy grabbed her keychain off the counter, and threw it to Frank.

"Want your goodnight kiss now?" he asked playfully as she let out a long yawn, and scooped up the random mess.

"No thanks, baby. I'll get two from you next time." She watched as her oldest son shut the door behind him, like she had a thousand times before.

_**OhBrotherWhereArtThou**_

What was that sound? Two seconds past. There it was again. Joe turned over angrily, and covered his head with a pillow. Someone was knocking at the door. He wished they'd just go away. Joe heard his parent's bedroom door open, and his mother's light footsteps as she descended the stairs.

Joe glanced sideways at his clock radio; the red numbers glowed into the dark room. 2:00am, it announced. Joe grumbled under his breath, but wriggled out of his covers anyways. His curiosity had finally gotten the better of him. "Frank?" he whispered, peering into his brother's room. He was surprised to find the bed had not been slept in. Joe rolled his eyes; the person at the door was most likely a very embarrassed Franklin Hardy, who had forgotten his keys. At least, that's what he wanted to believe.

"Are you sure?" he heard his mother say. Feeling drawn towards the mystery below, Joe crept slightly down that hall to the stairway. His heart began to speed up in his chest as he tiptoed, right foot, left foot, right, left, closer to the mystery he craved to unravel.

"Are you sure?" Mrs. Hardy repeated. Joe strained to see the person concealed in the entryway, but the half opened door and his mother's petite frame hid the late-night caller. He dropped another step. _Creak! _The stair tattled, its loud voice echoing through the quiet home.

Mrs. Hardy snapped her head around, looking with pain filled eyes at her youngest boy. Something made him stop, and caused a sudden wave of anxiety to flood over him. He moved his lips, questioning, but no sound came. His eyes filled with tears, even before his mother spoke.

"Joseph, honey, you'd better come down." He could see the officer clearly now. Joe didn't move. "Baby, Frank's dead.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Here it is. I hope you like it.**

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**Chapter Two**

"Baby, Frank's dead." The words seemed to echo endlessly throughout the dark house. _Frank's dead…dead…dead… _Joe closed his eyes. "Listen Mom, I'm kind of tired, will you please not joke right now." Laura Hardy stared at her youngest son, shocked. Joke? He believed she was joking? He couldn't honestly think this was her idea of a practical joke. Mrs. Hardy said nothing, tears running in steady streams down her cheeks.

"You're lying," Joe declared, staring hard at his mother's face, searching for something that was not there. "How could you lie about something like that?" He saw his mother shrink back, hurt, but he didn't care. He hated her - hated her for even imagining a scenario so vile.

"Mrs. Hardy," the officer said gently. "We need an identification first, ma'am. It could be possible the boy we found is not Frank." It was false hope, Laura knew, but she held onto it anyways.

Forcing a small smile she said, "Yes. It could be a mix-up." She looked up pleadingly at her youngest son. "Will you come with me, Joe? Please…" The young man looked away, staring at a family photo taken half a year ago. Watching, waiting, he considered going. Maybe there _had_ been a mistake. Of course, this was all one big misunderstanding. When Frank heard about this they'd laugh, and could forget tonight ever happened.

"Okay, Mom. Let's go."

"Thank-you sweetie. Thank-you." With Fenton away, Joe was all she had…and possibly the _only _child she had left…

_**OhBrotherWhereArtThou**_

The drive to the hospital was long and foreboding. The dreadful silence that had engulfed the house traveled with them, hanging heavily in the air. Laura Hardy sat in the passenger seat beside the officer, James Barlow, with Joe in the backseat, staring hopelessly out the window. The street lights, the houses, they all seemed different somehow. It was a strange feeling, driving down the familiar streets, past familiar houses where people slept soundly unaware of this tragedy. His entire world had shaken, and theirs was exactly the same.

Pushing through the doors to the lobby, Joe was distressed by the numerous officers and EMTs. What was going on? Why were so many 911 responders here? He swallowed the lump in his throat, hoping they had nothing to do with Frank, oh how he hoped.

A group consisting of three cops, two paramedics, and a doctor stood to the side, talking quietly. Officer Barlow headed straight for them.

"Laura and Joseph Hardy," he announced, ending all conversation. All eyes turned, their gazes burning holes into Joe's skin.

"What happened?" Laura demanded. "Where's my son?"

"Ma'am," an older officer spoke gently. _Oh no, _Joe thought, _he's using that tone of voice. The one that tells you you've woken up to a nightmare; evil and horrific. _"Ma'am, maybe you should sit down."

"Damn it, I don't want to sit down! I want to know what happened!"

The officer sighed, "Mrs. Hardy, this is Doctor Lena Stuart. If you would please follow her, she'll take you downstairs, and if you make a positive identification we'll discuss what happened." Laura nodded and followed Dr. Stuart, and Officer Barlow. Joe wrapped a protective arm around his mother's shoulders, and kissed her lightly on the head. He wanted her to know that he was here with her, ready to face whatever path lay before them.

A person had only three options for descending to the under-ground level: the laundry room, equipment storage, and the morgue. The basement was like something from a movie, cool and dimly lit, overhead lights flickering every now and again. Nothing but silence. The air stale. "Death lives here," it said.

Dr. Stuart paused in front of a heavy metal door. "I must warn you, Frank was banged up pretty bad." She looked directly at Joe. "It will be pretty hard to handle. We only need one person to make the ID."

"I can manage it," he replied. "I can." Dr. Stuart nodded, but she didn't believe him.

The morgue was like something out of a movie. Windowless, gray, and cold, metal cabinets lined the wall. Dr. Stuart moved like a ghost, floating on air, to the far left. Slowly, she pulled open what could only be described as a drawer. The form of a body was obvious under the white sheet. _Why do they always have to be white? _Joe thought. _Frank's favorite color is blue. What can't it be a blue sheet? _

The doctor pulled back the sheet gently, as though the corpse below would be disturbed if she yanked it off. She pulled it back, farther, and farther until the face was visible.

A gasp escaped Joe's lips. "God, no! Please God, NO!" Laura cried, falling to her knees. The pale features and staring lifeless brown eyes belonged to none other than the handsome Franklin Hardy.

All hope was lost.

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I know it's rather short, but I figured I'd better post something soon. =)

**If you review, please be kind.**

**BCA**


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